


Frosty feet on an uphill climb

by angelicrebels, spctrcs



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Dragonborn (Elder Scrolls), Helgen, Origin Story, Original Character(s), Skyrim Main Quest, Skyrim References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-23
Updated: 2020-01-23
Packaged: 2021-02-19 03:20:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22371082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelicrebels/pseuds/angelicrebels, https://archiveofourown.org/users/spctrcs/pseuds/spctrcs
Summary: This is the origin story of Amara, a young dragonborn setting out on her path to adventure. Read along as she meets new friends, goes through the wild and ends up in Helgen. I hope you enjoy!
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	Frosty feet on an uphill climb

**Author's Note:**

> Amara is my Skyrim character, as is her concept, but all the writing credits go to eatafuckingbullet

The sun had barely risen, the grass was still damp and the birds had yet to wake, the only sounds to be heard were the rustling of the leaves from the wind and the house maid doing her work in the kitchen down the hall. Of course, it wouldn’t be long before the house was filled with sounds. The chattering of the maids, the gentle voice of her mother and the kettle boiling the water for their morning tea.

Life was good in Residence Salvatore, out in the Rift. The lucky family always had food to fill their bellies, beautiful clothes, jewelry for their wrists and necks and any other luxury you could imagine.

Normally, anybody would enjoy a life like this. Having anything you could ever want, who wouldn’t wish for a life like that? Everyone would.

Except for young Amara Salvatore, at twelve years old she had already gained quite the reputation. Instead of being the sweet, polite girl she had been expected to be by her father, she enjoyed going outside, going hunting with the townsfolk and having quite the loud mouth on her.  
Much to her father’s disappointment, young Amara was nothing like the lady he had hoped for her to be. 

The differences between father and daughter caused a lot of tension in house Salvatore and the young girl didn’t know how long she could take it. This kind of life wasn’t made for a hardy girl like her. And after yet another fight between Amara and her father, the girl decided that she was finally done. She was going to run away.

A whole plan formed in her head. She would wait until everyone was asleep and then she would climb out of the large window in her room. The drop down wasn’t too far, she wasn’t too worried about it. A smile formed on her lips when the plan was formulated. Tonight would be the night that she would escape the captivity of the luxurious life. She would go out to explore the world, find out about the different kinds of people, visit new cities and anything else it had to offer. It seemed so big for a girl that had never been outside the walls of her family's estate.

That night, Amara quietly packed her bags and put on the most worn clothes she owned. A dress simply would not do in the outside world, right? Other than clothes, she had taken food and water from the kitchen and the hunting knife from the estate’s trophy room.

Before she left, the girl decided to write a note to her mother, the ink from the pen gliding over the paper, occasionally getting mixed with a single tear. Even if Amara had her heart set on going on an adventure, she would miss her mother like any girl would.  
She placed the letter on her pillow and opened her window.  
A deep breath filled her lungs as she dropped down, letting out a small grunt as her feet painfully hit the ground. She took a moment to see if her feet and ankles had sustained any real injuries, before glancing back once more and setting out into the wide world.

It all had sounded pretty good in her head, it really had. Amara had set out on her way to Whiterun, a grand city in the middle of Skyrim. She had heard such wonderful things about it and wanted to see it with her own eyes. But now? She was out of food, out of water, her clothes were dirty and she hadn’t seen another human-like being in- what had it been? Two weeks, perhaps? 

The first two days had gone pretty good, she had managed her supplies well. But after? There had been no towns. Only barren lands, wild forests and huge mountains. She had spent more than a preferable amount of time running from wild animals and trying to find shelter for the Rift’s cold nights.

Three days, and she was already missing the warmth and comfort of her home. Shivering on the cold leaves she thought of her mother, with her soft hands and gentle smile, she even missed her father, with his stern eyes and protective figure.

But she couldn’t go back could she? Not when she was this far out already.

A hand laid on her shoulder, and Amara nearly leaped out of her skin as she came nose to nose with a furry face.

The Khajiit reared back in surprise, and turned his gaze behind him, “By the gods! It’s a child!”

Another few pairs of footsteps, and more khajiit surrounded the young girl. Amara was holding her breath, unsure of what they were going to do.  
“I- I’m sorry- I can just move and- get out of your way?”

“You’re not in our way at all, girl. Now tell me, what are you doing all the way out here?”

The khajiit was large, built tough and strong, and his fur was gray at his temples, he was certainly the oldest. Amara had sensed the danger had passed.

“I… ran away from home.” She answered honestly. The khajiit looked amongst themselves, before the eldest kneeled down and offered his hand.

“Well then girl, I think it’s best if you come with us. If it’s home you wish to outrun then khajiit will assist. I am Ra’Srin, father to my sons Fa’raym and Omfzir that you see here.” The khajiit introduced, and two others stepped forward, one brown, the other orange.  
“Ra’Mal would like to know where this girl wished to end up,” A woman drawled, her ears pricked in interest.

“I wished to head to Whiterun my lady,” Amara murmured politely, and was startled by the amount of laughs she got.

“Whiterun is in the other direction,” one of the younger boys howled, face full of amusement, “even a blind kitten would have better senses than you!”

Ra’Srin cuffed his boy over the ear, tail lashing with annoyance, “Khajiit does not make fun of,” he growled, and nodded in approval as his son shrank away.

Ra’Srin turned his gaze back to Amara, “Come with us, girl. We are not living with luxury, nor do we have a stationary home. We will demand work from you, just as we do all members of the caravan. Do you accept?”

Amara glanced at his family, at the main road which was barely visible in the dark. High above her, the moons glowed with power.

“I accept.”

Ra’Srin smiled, and offered his hand to help her up.

Ever since she had run away all those years ago, the Khajiit had treated her as their own. Amara had done her best to match pace will Ra’Srin’s boys, often always trying to out-do them at chores. She’d even be the first to be ready to go on hunting trips.

The friendly competition was nice, Amara never had any siblings to share that with.

But, alas, as all things are, Amara was eventually ready to head out on her own. She had grown a little these past years, and as much as that saddened her she had still gained muscle many girls her age hadn’t. At least not with her former living conditions.

Ra’Srin embraced her one final time, before drawing back to place a kiss on her forehead.  
“You are the woman I am proud to call my daughter,” Ra’Srin purred, brushing her white hair out of her face, “Fight well, Amara.”

Omfzir came over, and clapped her on the shoulder, he too was growing just as big as his father, “Make sure you go the right way this time!” He teased.

Amara laughed, and took him by the chin, gently shaking him, “How about you work on your sword arm!”

If only she had more time to say goodbye- but the wagon driver was looking pressed for time, and other passengers didn’t look too happy either.

It was time for her to leave, the caravan had taught her how to survive, now it was up to her to do something with their lessons. She would miss them dearly, she had hoped their journey back home would be successful. 

“You should get going,” Ra’Srin murmured, and Amara smiled sadly before nodding and shouldering her pack.

“Goodbye Ra’Srin.”

“May your roads lead to warm sands, Amara.”

As Amara climbed onto the wagon, she looked back at her adopted family, and silently wished them well. Fog settled over the valley, and Amara was swathed in limited sight as the steady hooves of the horse drove them forward.

Some place, just ready to cross the border, armored warriors started to board, sitting next to her, and keeping pace next to the wagon. Amara tried to pay them no mind, she would mind her own business.

The girl busied herself by counting her coin, she didn’t have much, maybe for another wagon trip but that was about it. Food would have to come first, then clothing. She scoffed at herself, god, what a stupid kid she was back then.

One of the soldiers next to her coughed, it sounded wet. He probably had stomach rot.  
Heavy steel collided with her shoulder as the man slumped on her.

She hissed and pushed at him, “I’m not some wench! Get off me!”

He didn’t budge. Amara’s face scrunched in anger and she shoved at him, “Gods! Mov-”

As she turned to look at him, a scream forced its way out of her throat. He hadn’t coughed because he was sick. An arrow had forced a way into his throat, and his eyes had been clouded over with death.

The soldiers rose from their seats at her cry, and one of them let out a harsh cry, “Imperials!”

Amara doesn’t remember being knocked out. All she remembers was the sharp sound of steel.

The air smelled different.

The weather felt different too. As Amara blinked open her eyes the first thing she took note of was how much the fog had gone. The next thing she noticed was how her hands were in bonds.

Amara sucked in a breath and tried not to panic, she opened her mouth-

“Hey, you. You’re finally awake?”

Amara turned to meet the gaze of a Nord, blue eyes piercing, and blond hair vibrant.

“You were trying to cross the border right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush. Same as us, and that thief over there.” He nodded toward a man in rags, and tied in the same bonds.

“Damn you Stormcloaks,” The thief muttered, “Skyrim was fine until you came along, Empire was nice and lazy… if they hadn’t been looking for you, I could’ve stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell!”

Amara didn’t know what to say, she looked to her left- then to her right. Sure enough she was being driven in a wagon by an imperial guard. Gods- What had she done? The thief looked at her, “You and me, we shouldn’t be here, it’s the Stormcloaks the Empire wants.”

The nord laughed, and Amara jolted, “We’re all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief!”

“Shut up back there!” Barked the guard.

The thief nodded to the guy in a gag across from them, “What’s with him, huh?”  
“Watch your tongue!” The nord grunted, “You’re speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King!”

The thief's eyes widened, “Ulfric, the Jarl of Windhelm? You’re the leader of the rebellion… and if they captured you- Oh, Gods! Where are they taking us?”

The nords eyes went to the sky, and he sighed, “I don’t know where we’re going… but Sovngarde awaits.”

Amara could admire his faith. She had never been the most religious person.

The thief started to shake, “This can’t be happening- This isn’t happening!”

The chatty nord shook his head and smiled, “Hey… what village are you from horse thief?”

“Why do you care?”  
“A nords last thoughts, should be of home.”

The thief’s jaw clenched, “Rorikstead. I’m- I’m from Rorikstead.”

The Nord looked as if he were about to respond, but suddenly they were all passing through a gate. Ralof looked over his shoulder, and Amara followed his gaze. The horse thief started to mutter the names of the Divines under his breath.

“Look at him, General Tullis the military governor! And it looks like the Thalmor are with him- damn elves, I bet they had something to do with this.”

The Nord looked around, and sighed again, “This is Helgen… I used to be sweet on a girl from here. I wonder if Vilod is still making that mead with juniper berries mixed in. Funny… when I was a boy, Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe.”

Amara looked around, pleading for any passersby to plead for her, she was just shy of sixteen- she… She wasn’t supposed to be here. No one met her gaze, she was alone, and would die alone.

The thief looked around, panicking even more as the wagon pulled to a halt.  
“Why are we stopping?”

“Why do you think?” the nord grumbled, “End of the line.”

The next few minutes passed in a blur, as if Amara was slipping in and out of awareness. She couldn’t stop thinking if this was really it. Maybe she could convince them that she was innocent, maybe she could run away.

Lokir’s body stood a few yards away, disapproving of that fact.

“Girl!”

Amara turned her unfocused gaze on the red-haired Nord in front of her, “Yes?” She said quietly.

“What’s your name..?”

Amara stared ahead, what was her name? She felt like she couldn’t remember.  
“Amara..” She managed to mutter out, just higher than a whisper.

The red-haired Nord turned to the captain next to him, “Captain, what should we do? She’s not on the list.”  
The Captain huffed, “Forget the list, she goes to the block.”

The red-haired Nord looked to her, and he opened his mouth as if to apologize. Amara shot him a glare, she wanted to spit on him if she could.

Amara could shake with anger.

How dare they, How. Dare.

Amara’s thoughts had been interrupted by a sudden animal cry in the distance. She perked up in curiosity, for that hadn’t sounded like any animal she heard before.

The sound was soon forgotten, and the execution continued. Amara closed her eyes as she heard the axe fall. She could hear the thud of a head hitting the dirt, and hot, wet blood pouring onto the ground.

The roar sounded again, this time closer.

“There is again.”

The Imperial Captain waved her hand, and she seemed nothing but inconvenienced, “Next, the white-haired whore!”

Amara stared ahead, at the block, at the headsman. He had already chopped one head… and now he was going to hack off hers.

The young girl steeled herself, and took a step forward, then another. She thought about her mother, her father, about the caravan she had left behind only several hours ago. Where would she go when she died? She hadn’t thought about it…

“What in Oblivion is that!?”

“Sentry, what do you see?”

Suddenly, the world went dark, big black wings blotted out the sun, and a menacing shadow was cast overhead.

“Dragon!”

Amara's mother had told the stories of the winged beasts, able to bite a man in half, and carry a mammoth into the sky.  
Dragons were the sign of times coming to an end, and as the great beast let out a Thu'um that shook the ground and made fire rain from the sky- she now knew that the tales were true.

She was frozen with fear, and yet as she was frozen a voice inside her was telling her to escape.

She had been told by Ra'Srin to trust that voice. The one that came from the gut. It will outweigh whatever fear instinct brought.

Amara had a chance. She wouldn't die today.

In a burst of speed she took off to the right, dashing for the first break she could see in the wall. As molten fire rained from above and cleared a path she could laugh at how lucky she had gotten.

The Eastern Gate was locked down, a fallen soldier lying a few feet away, his armor fused with his flesh from the ferocity of the flame. Her mind stuttered, and she reached for his axe, a large, heavy thing that she could barely carry.

Using the blade she slashed at her bonds, her hands becoming free. The dragon above her roared, and as Amara looked up she saw a guard fly from its massive talons, the mangled body hitting the ground near her with a wet thud.

She had to get out of here. That dragon was going to kill her!

She dragged her axe to the gate, and slid it under to the other side. She soon followed, heart pounding as she pried herself from underneath it.

Ash was caked on her face, and her chest was heaving with effort.

The sounds of carnage were behind those heavy wooden doors. Families were being slain, their homes destroyed. She had to do something… anything.

As the fighting ceased, and a dead silence settled over the burning village, Amara hauled up her axe.

She turned to look down the road, and ran for her life.


End file.
